Ice Cream Clueless
by chocolatebearturk
Summary: Sometimes, Miley thought, Oliver was just a little too clueless. And yet, other times... he had all the answers. MOLIVER


**Well, after putting some time and thought into it, I've edited ICC. Most of the people who read it before the edit probably won't be seeing this again, but I thought I'd let people know that I've made some changes. I went through this in Word so we've got smart quotes instead of the ugly REGULAR quotation marks. I've also made Miley a bit more aware of her feelings for Oliver here, and added a little tidbit that was supposed to appear in the original document. Of course, I blame anything that went wrong before on a three-in-the-morning writing session and posting this immediately after it was finished.**

**So, I'm sure you've had enough of me rambling. I'll leave it at that, and hope you have time to drop a review at the door when you leave. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

ICE CREAM CLUELESS

* * *

"No! Get Lilly to do it!"

Miley pouted, even though Oliver couldn't see her. She opened the refrigerator to get a drink. "She's visiting her great-aunt Maude, remember?"

"I refuse to do something as girly as what you are suggesting," Oliver replied firmly. "It is truly sick that you come to me any time Lilly can't do some chick thing with you."

"Some 'chick' thing?" repeated the 'chick', raising an eyebrow. She let go of the phone and held it to her ear with her shoulder for a moment so she could open the orange juice she'd just got out. As she poured it into a glass, she was sure she could hear Oliver swallowing.

"Well, you know what I—I mean; it's just a… I didn't mean…" Oliver stuttered. He stopped when he heard Miley giggle and there was a short pause. Then, as though nothing had happened, he was suddenly back in action. "Why can't we ever do guy stuff? It's always shopping or nail salons or beauty parlors or wig stores—"

"Hey, we needed to get you a real goatee!" Miley said indignantly. She put the orange juice away.

"Okay, okay! But I still hold up that we never do guy things!" Oliver replied. "You've never asked me to teach you how to throw a football, or how to surf, or even how to skateboard."

"I've got my dad for football, Jackson for surfing, and Lilly for skateboarding," said the brunette. "You don't know how to do any of those things, either."

"They were examples, Miley," Oliver growled, clearly caught. The boy fumbled to come up with a snappy comeback and, sadly, came back empty.

Stewart: 1; Oken: 0.

These lines were well rehearsed, the unofficial ritual dialogue for whenever Miley needed Oliver's help for something… less than masculine. It wasn't like Miley had a choice; or much of one, anyway. Lilly just happened to be absent from their group of three more often than not lately.

Miley downed her orange juice quickly and decided to head in for the kill; take down his weak flank.

"C'mon, Ollie…" she said sweetly, adding just a hint of pleading and whine to her voice. This almost never failed, though Miley didn't have a clue why. She supposed it reminded him of his little sister. She moved the phone to another ear. "Please do this for me?"

"No, Miley. And if you—!" Oliver began with all the anger of a grouchy old guy yelling at the neighborhood kids.

"I'll buy you an ice cream?" Miley offered up the bribe in hopeful tones, disappointed that one of her best tactics had been dodged. These were probably the only genuine words she'd uttered thus far. Oliver, used to all of her attacks, was getting stronger by the day. Soon nothing but food bribes would work on him. And when she ran out of cash...

The girl shuddered. She didn't know what would happen then.

There was a sigh on the other line. Miley smiled when she heard it, for it was not an agitated, I-will-never-agree sigh, but a fine-but-only-for-the-ice-cream sigh.

* * *

"Just so you know…" Oliver said through a mouthful of ice cream. "I only went on that shopping trip with you for this ice cream."

Miley rolled her eyes and smiled.

As much as Oliver talked bad about shopping with her, she knew that he didn't hate it. He complained loudly when other males passed by (oddly enough, those other males accompanied by females usually seemed compelled to complain as they passed, too), and the loudest when people of their school were near. She knew it was mostly an act so he wouldn't appear too "girly".

She wondered briefly if he complained because he didn't want to be seen with her. That stung, for some reason. Then she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and stole a spoon of Oliver's strawberry ice cream.

"Hey!" Oliver said teasingly.

_Or flirtatiously?_ an annoying voice whispered. Miley ignored it. The boy didn't flirt if he didn't mean it. And since he was with her—and his flirtations were often way too obvious and way too cheesy—there was no way he meant it. If he was flirting. Which he wasn't.

"Y'know, Oliver," she said slowly, as though thinking very carefully about her words. "You never did strike me as a strawberry sort of person."

Oliver looked down at his bowl curiously. He put down his spoon. Then, moving his head in what Miley could only assume was an imitation of a character she couldn't name at the moment, he asked, "Why, whatever do you mean?"

Miley really had to struggle to hold in laughter when she recognized his "Ace Ventura" impression, complete with slightly creepy, lip-waggling smile and an almost perfect imitation of the voice.

"Only that you always seemed to be a chocolate person," Miley said, her voice wobbling on barely held-in giggles.

Oliver stopped the head movements and the lip-wagging and drew back a little, confused by what she'd said. It was almost funnier than his impression. Confused suited him. It was sort of… cute.

"You do know that I'm not edible, right?" Oliver asked.

Miley's mouth dropped open. For a moment, she was so shocked that she forgot to laugh; and when she remembered, the laughter was loud and long. She positively giggled when Oliver's expression changed from slightly confused to totally bewildered.

"W-what I meant… I m-meant that…" Her voice trailed off into more chuckles and Oliver looked ready to start backing away slowly. It took a few moments, but she finally calmed down. She picked up a spoon and, ignoring Oliver's protests, dug it deep into his bowl of ice cream.

"Uh, Miles…?" he said, wincing as she put the succulent bite in her mouth.

"Yeah?" said the brunette, closing her eyes to savor the taste.

"That was my spoon."

Her eyes popped open. She stared across the table at him, then down at the spoon in her hand. Her gaze flickered back and forth between him and the utensil.

_If sharing Chap Stick is an indirect kiss…_ Miley thought. She turned red when she realized the direction her thoughts were taking. _Gross! No! This is Oliver we're talking about!_

"Sorry, Oliver," she said. She turned around and snagged a napkin roll from the booth behind her and handed it to him. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

Their fingers touched briefly on the napkin roll and the girl snatched her hand back as though shocked. Indeed, she felt like electricity had shot up her arm from the momentary contact.

Oliver, totally oblivious to Miley's reaction and the turn of events, merely shrugged and unrolled the napkin for his new spoon. "It happens."

There was silence for a while.

_What is wrong with me?_ Miley thought, looking at her lap. This was so unlike her, to get so edgy. It usually only happened when she was around a guy she—

No. There was no way.

"So, what did you mean about the chocolate thing?"

Her head shot up and it took a moment for her to answer.

"Oh, I just meant that you looked like the sort of person who'd pick chocolate over strawberry," Miley explained. She grinned a little. "You know strawberry's my favorite. It's sweet and creamy and tart all at once. All the good stuff in one."

_Kind of like you._

It took an effort not to shake her head at that unwanted thought. What had gotten into her?

Oliver nodded at her explanation. "Most of the time I probably would've chosen chocolate. But lately… strawberry ice cream has a very special meaning for me."

"What's that?" Miley asked, deciding her craziness had awarded her a deserving spoon of pink berry goodness.

"It's the favorite of the girl I like." Oliver said.

Miley's hand stopped in another go at the sweet treat. "What?"

She looked up at Oliver. There was this intense look in his eyes, like he was trying to tell her something without saying it. For once, it was Miley who was confused, for she didn't get what he was trying to communicate at all. She pulled her empty spoon back to stare casually at her reflection.

"W-who is she?" Miley asked. She was getting a sinking, sickly feeling in her stomach.

"Not telling," Oliver said cheerfully.

She'd suspected as much. She cleared her throat. "Do I know her?"

Oliver nodded obligingly.

Miley tried not to grip the spoon too hard and let him see her white knuckles.

"Does she… does she know you like her?" Miley asked. She hoped her voice didn't sound as strained to him as it did to her. The sick feeling in her stomach had turned into a knot of conflicting sensations. It was hot and cold at the same time, and hard and soft, too… It was not a pleasant thing to go through.

"I don't think so," Oliver replied, looking at her curiously. "But I plan on changing that."

"When?"

It came out as more of a challenge than a question, though the challenge was weak, at best. The stomach sensation had intensified greatly and she now knew with horrible certainty that everything she'd attempted to deny was undeniable.

Of course, the second she figured everything out, he told her this.

So, was he going to walk out on her and find the other girl? Or would he do the one thing he'd never really do?

Oliver met her eyes, looking just as fluttery and fearful as she felt. He began to stand and her heart sank. He leaned across the table.

Miley's spoon clattered to the floor.

"You taste like strawberry ice cream."


End file.
